


The Secret Of Winter Forest.

by TheBlackRoom



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Accidental Death, Alpha Rick, Alternate Universe - The Walking Dead Fusion, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angry Daryl, Angst, Bottom Daryl, Bottom Rick, Caring Rick, Carl Grimes - Freeform, Cheating, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Daryl Has Issues, Daryl In Love, Death, Eventual Smut, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Good Brother Merle, Heartache, Hurt Daryl, Hurt Rick, Insecure Daryl, Inspired by The Walking Dead, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Michonne - Freeform, Mutual Masturbation, Negan - Freeform, Nice Lori, Oral Sex, POV Rick, Police Officer Shane, Poor Daryl, Protective Merle, Protective Rick, Rickyl, Rickyl Writers' Group, Rickyl Writers' Group Bingo 2016, Sad Carl Grimes, Smut, Teen Carl, Top Daryl, Top Rick, carol peletier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-06-03 17:11:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6619249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackRoom/pseuds/TheBlackRoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick Grime's is a high school English Teacher, his wife Lori a Family  Physician, and his fourteen year old son Carl a stage four cancer patient. When Rick is so close to the unbearable agony of realizing that his son will most likely die he finds an unexpected comfort in the hospital waiting room where he meets Daryl Dixon. What was meant to be nothing more than a friendship mutates into a heated and turbulent romance that pines away at Rick's conscience every time he looks at his wife and children. And Daryl refuses to be Rick's dirty secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everything Ends.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally thought this up in about a minute and wrote it down. I hope its something you guys like, thanks for reading.

The forest air is thick and loamy with autumn mildew and the icy damp drizzle that trickled down through the receding canapé. Every sound heightened by the stillness as critters dashed like ghost atop the damp forest floor, every drop of rain resinated and the trickling creek crept with a forlorn whisper as it soaked Rick’s cowboy boots.  
He sunk into a squat resting his elbows on his knees and covering his quivering lips with withered frozen hands.  
“It was an accident.” His conscience stated. “You didn’t mean to do this.” And Rick wanted to listen to this reason, but he was a monster no less. His face was tight with frozen tears and his eyes bloodshot from weeping, his throat burned from vomit and he hoped he would fall over dead like he deserved.  
Rick choked and parted his chapped lips to speak only to relinquish a strangled sob. Twilight is approaching and after six hours of staring desperately at Daryl’s body he still can’t move from where he’s rooted. The body of the man he loved laying face down in the shallow creek, eyes half open and pale with death, Rick felt he should be forced to look into them until the grief rendered him lifeless. How did this happen? The rotten foot bridge above him was hardly ten feet off the ground. 

“I can’t leave Lori, I love her!” Rick yelled through the giant knot in his chest. Daryl whipped around and stomped up to him like an angry grizzly, his eyes dangerous and wild in spite of his breaking heart. 

“That’s s’what you told me too! You fuckin’ liar!” Daryl challenged and shoved Rick hard enough to make him stumble back. 

“Daryl, you don’t understand!” He cried desperately. 

“I understand jus’ fine! I swallowed all y’r bull shit about lovin’ me and not wantin’ to be without me!” Daryl scoffed incredulously. “And I believed you, I believed I was more to you than a filthy secret that you’d rather die than own up to.” He choked back his sobs and spun around toward the slimy wooden footbridge. 

“That’s not true!” Rick called and chased after him. “Do you have any empathy for my situation? Do you care at all for what this does to me?” 

“S’always ‘bout you, Rick!” He shot over his shoulder. “What, you think I don’t know? That I’m just a scuzzy white trash redneck you’ve been butt fuckin’ behind y’r doting wife’s back all these years, that I haven’t figured you out?” He halted on the first slippery blackened board and turned to face Rick. 

“Lori loves me Daryl, there are more people involved in this than just us!” He begged the man to understand, but Daryl was tired of understanding why he should spend his life in the shadows. 

“She don’t love you, Rick Grime’s.” Daryl’s voice suddenly cruel and pointed. “She loves your lies, but she don’t love you, she don’t even know who fuck you are.” Daryl’s heartache now exuding like venom from his fangs.

“Stop this! None of this is true, you’re just emotional, please, don’t do this!” Rick reached for the other mans arm, “Daryl, I love you, please believe me!” Daryl jerked away and glared in disbelief as tears started to streak Rick’s face and his demeanor begging. “I—I jus’ don’t know what to do!” He sobbed. “I would die for you.” Rick simpered and hung his head, his chest heaved out large frosty clouds into the icy blue air. Daryl suddenly looked defeated and hollow of anger, his now shattered heart on display.

“Funny Rick, ‘cause you’re the one whose killing me,” He swallowed thickly and stepped back up on the rotting bridge, Rick looked up at him with the eyes of a dog that had been beaten by its owner and wanted nothing more than redemption. 

“W—We can fix this.” He breathed, but Daryl’s features twisted in pain as he failed to force back his tears and he shook his head. 

“No, Rick, this is over.” He hugged himself tightly as though it would keep him from falling apart, “This is the last time you’ll ever see me again.” He whispered and turned to walk across the bridge that creaked ominously beneath his weight. 

“No!” Rick lunged after him and grabbed him by the shoulders. “It doesn’t end like this, it can’t, we can fix this!” He begged as Daryl struggled to break away from him.

“No, Rick, stop!” He shoved Rick hard and lost his footing, Rick reached for him, but he was already gone. Daryl’s horrified eyes just kept falling away from him and he couldn’t get to him, he couldn’t save him.


	2. In The Twilight Room.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In The Twilight Room, where no one is confirmed dead or alive. Also known as the waiting room in the oncology wing where Rick spends every Tuesday and Friday with Carl, but today Rick meets an intriguing man named Daryl who harbors an interesting X-Factor that Rick won't be able to stop obsessing over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANGST! A German word for, emo people will love this shit, lol. But seriously, the whole emo thing is SO 2003. 
> 
> P.s, Thank you so very much to Jayj456 for being my sexy Beta <3

The Secret Of Winter Forest  
~~**~~

Rick sat in the large glass auditorium like waiting room, the sky was gray and opaque with a gloom that managed to penetrate and kill any whisper of joy. He spent every Tuesday and Friday in this room that served as a vault to unimaginable suffering and sorrow, it smelled of sterilized air and new paint. He peered through his round silver glasses at a man who sat in the corner a few chairs down, his dirty blonde hair covering most of his forlorn features as his knee bounced uncontrollably. Rick had seen him here before, but people often avoided conversation in this room of twilight where nobody was determined dead or alive. 

“Carl Grime’s!” The nurse called clinically. Rick looked over to his fourteen year old son to gauge his strength as the frail and gaunt boy stood up. Rick wanted to scream and sob every time he saw his son, his son he could not trade places with even though he would give anything to do so.

“Let me help you.” Rick mumbled gruffly and cleared his throat. 

“No, I’m fine!” Carl snapped unintentionally. He gave his dad an apologetic eye, but Rick understood. Being so weak and ill all the time was taxing and infuriating for the teenage boy that should be in school today and playing sports with his friends, but instead he was fighting stage four cancer. “I’ll be out soon, just a PET scan.” Carl tried to comfort, an ironic paradox. 

“Ok kiddo,” Rick tried not to sound too fazed as Carl flashed him a weak smile that exposed his blue and silver braces. 

As Carl hobbled on the cane that wrapped around his boney wrist, he left Rick feeling like his lungs and heart were being squeezed rendering them incapable of proper function. Another PET scan; has never just been a ‘Just’ event. The last eight months Carl had had three scans and each delivered another crippling premonition: more mets, more tumors, the cancer has spread to his brain, the cancer is metastasizing in his lungs.

Rick forced himself to exhale and eased back down into his sear and ran his fingers through his wavy salt and pepper hair. 

He shuddered and cleared his throat a little louder than he intended to and pinched the bridge of his nose. His cheeks puffed out as he exhaled when a styrofoam cup appeared in his face, he just stared at it for a moment before he realized it was being handed to him. 

“Um—thank you.” He mumbled and took the sad white cup into his own hand. 

“Look like a man that could use a drink.” The shaggy haired man that had been sitting across the room a few minutes ago sat down beside him in a deep slouch and sipped from a metal flask. 

He was ambiguous and very handsome in his own way, Rick thought. 

Rick peered down into the cup to find a warm amber liquid, he sniffed it.

“Is this…”

“Jamison.” The man answered gruffly in a thick southern accent. Rick almost rejected it as a smirk of disbelief brightened his face. “Drink it man, y’r kid has cancer.” The stranger urged a bit insensitive. 

“That doesn’t…mm, fine.” Rick threw it back without another moment of hesitation. The heated burn was delicious as it spread through his chest and washed away the frog in his throat. 

Both men sat in comfortable silence in the waiting room as a few more patience wandered in, mostly adults, but some of them children with varying types of cancer that were bald and emaciated from the malignancies that their tiny little bodies hosted. 

“I’m Rick.” He introduced himself. 

“Daryl.” The man mumbled indifferently. 

“Who’re you here with?” Rick tried not to sound invasive, but the guy had offered him a drink.

“M’brother,” Daryl placed a nervous thumb in his mouth and bit at the nail. 

“I’m sorry.” Rick hung his head and stared at the empty cup wishing it were full with the burning amber whiskey. 

“You ain’t from around here, got that southern accent.” Daryl stated a little louder as if to shake off the gloom of their whereabouts. Rick gave him a weak smile and nodded. 

“Georgia, you too?” 

“Yeah man, ’n I bet y’r here cuz y’r kid got the luck of the draw.” He mused dubiously. 

“Luck?” Rick’s voice bit. 

“Yeah, some weird ass cancer that made ‘im eligible for treatment at one o’ the best treatment centers in the country.” He said flatly and popped his knuckles. Rick suddenly wanted to punch this man in his face. What the fuck does he know about Carl’s cancer? 

“He has Myeloid Leukemia.” Rick said with a hard stare at the man who just now turned to look at him for the first time. Rick continues, “We’re here because my wife is a Family Physician and had connections at Yale, not because my son’s cancer is weird.” 

Daryl gave him a crooked grin. 

“You’re defending y’r kid’s cancer like their one ’n the same thing.” He criticized. This caught Rick by surprise and he instantly recoiled. 

“The lines start to blur after a while.” Rick whispered sadly.

“D’n be so hard on yourself.” Daryl huffed. “No one’s ever ready ta deal with this shit.” He sat up straight and crossed his arms. “Merle, m’brother, won’t live till Christmas.” He confessed. Rick looked up at him again, his eyes forlorn and lost. 

“How’d you guys end up here in Connecticut?” Rick asked. 

“Ima Firefighter/Paramedic, put Merle on my insurance.” Daryl started and took a deep breath. “Ya know, his cancer is weird,” He gave Rick a wry smile, “And they happened to have a program here the doctors in Atlanta thought he would benefit from.” 

“That was good of you.” Rick told him with a tight lip grin. 

“He’s all I got.” Daryl mumbled and exhaled through his nose before slouching back into the chair. 

“No family?” Rick asked and immediately felt stupid as “he’s all I got” didn’t tell him everything he needed to know. “I’m sorry, that was dumb.” Rick shook his head.

“Nah, s’alright,” Daryl shrugged. “We forget how to talk about anything that isn’t cancer, it consumes your life.” 

“I would like to talk about something else.” Rick confessed as he realized how true Daryl’s words were. All he and Lori ever spoke about for the past three years is Carl’s cancer, and when they weren’t speaking to each other about it they were speaking to doctors and nurses about it. At work they constantly received condolences for a son that hasn’t even died yet, but everyone figured he would. 

“You married?” Daryl asked in attempt to grant Rick’s wish of topic change. 

“Uh—yeah,” Rick glanced down at the gold band around his finger. “You ever been married?” He countered feeling desperate and clueless about how to conduct small talk and pleasantries anymore. Daryl smirked and gave Rick a meaningful look. 

“Nah, man,” He shrugged, “I’m gay.” 

“Oh,” Rick suddenly felt like Daryl had splashed icy cold water in his face. 

“You alright with that?” He mumbled defensively. 

“I—yes, of course!” 

“You don’t seem it.”

“No, I am.” Rick promised. “I just, didn’t take you for, ya know…” Daryl’s brows shot up in disbelief. 

“A faggot?” 

“God, no, that’s not what I meant…I just…I said it wrong—I” He stammered and started to panic. 

“Breath man, I’m fuckin’ with ya.” Daryl chuckled. “I know my ass don’t qualify for no rainbow pride float in the Thanks Giving Day Parade or some shit.” Rick relaxed and actually smiled for the first time all week. 

“I’m just a small town guy from Georgia like you, I have a pretty limited and ignorant understanding of gay, I guess.” He flashed Daryl a nervous grin. 

“Hell, you ’n me both, wasn’t like I grew up in Providence Town.” He joked and Rick noticed how handsome he was when he smiled and his blue eyes brightened a bit. 

“Must of been difficult growing up like that.” Rick surmised. 

“I guess, mostly just the feeling alone all the time, like I was the only one for so long.” He confessed. “But I never got picked on or nothin’, because I wasn’t obvious. That and Merle would whoop their asses.” He chuckled. 

“Mr. Grime’s, the doctor would like to speak with you.” A nurse informed him from behind the sliding glass window. His heart sunk and his lungs contracted. 

“Well, thanks for talkin’ with me.” Rick nodded as he stood up. Daryl nodded and watched his closely. 

“Hey!” He called to Rick, who turned to him. “You’re not alone.” Daryl promised as the heavy wooden door closed and left Rick a little puzzled. He was sure it meant something more than just a vague statement. 

 

_______________________________________

 

Carl sat beside his father in the cozy office of Doctor Carol Peletier, they did not talk, but Rick kept clearing his throat and fidgeting. 

“Rick, Carl!” Doctor Peletier greeted them as she walked in and sat behind her desk to face them. She was a pretty middle aged woman with short spiky silver hair and a motherly disposition. 

“Doctor.” Rick nodded nervously. 

“Hi.” Carl mumbled. She clasped her hands on the desk and curled her lips in thought. 

“Okay.” She began. “The PET scan came out with a surprise.” He voice pitched making Rick and Carl’s heads lift to meet her eyes. “The surgery on the lymph-nodes was successful, and the removal of the tumor in your lungs was also successful!” She smiled and Rick felt his heart accelerate with hope. “And there are no signs of spreading.” She concluded. 

“So…it’s working?” Rick choked and looked at his son with teary eyes. “The Interferon works?” 

“Well—“ She began.

“I’m just dying slower.” Carl whispered. “It hasn’t gotten better, it just hasn’t gotten worse.” He finished cynically. 

“Well, that’s why I want to continue with it for another month, if it continues to slow the spread then we will go back to Chemotherapy for another three months.” She tried to sound positive, but she could see the exhaustion in Carl’s eyes, the exhaustion she recognized in patients who were giving up. 

“Okay! I mean, of course!” Rick agreed adamantly. “Carl?” He deflated at his son’s somber expression. “Carl?” 

“I’m so tired of being in pain, dad.” He confessed as silent tears rolled down his hollowed cheeks. “I think you need to let me die.” He chocked and Rick shot out of his chair to kneel in front him and cradle his crying face.

“No, baby, no!” Rick begged, “Please, this is good news, please, you’re my son, my first born!” He sobbed and pressed his head to Carl’s. “Don’t give up, please baby, I need you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. I encourage, and of course appreciate BookMarks since I tend to update regularly <3 
> 
> XOXOXO!


	3. Frick n' Frack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl meets an unlikely friend in Merle Dixon while receiving his cancer treatment, and Daryl starts to get the butterflies for Rick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think I add some humor to this otherwise angst ridden story.  
> Let me know what you think and feel free to offer suggestions :)

Carl didn’t sleep that night. He was on the precipice of embracing death, no longer fearing the other side of the great unknown. All he knew is that he didn’t want to suffer any more in the vain hope of remission. But he could not fall apart, his parents were doing that enough for him, and in some sense he resented them for it. 

He clears his throat as he sits up in his bed with Star Wars covers and wipes the sweat from his forehead. Fever, dizziness, labored breath, is it anxiety or cancer? It has to be anxiety; he was lamenting his appointment with Dr. Peletier in few hours with a whole new round of Interferon and protein injections and mood altering steroid patches. He runs his hands through his long damp hair and wonders if it will fall out next month when he starts Chemotherapy, again. Last time he was fortunate, if there was such a thing, but his body is much weaker now, much more frail. 

He let out a dull cough and tried to center himself in the darkness. Carl let his eyes sweep over his room with matte black walls and plastic glow in the dark stars and planets stuck all over the ceiling down to the baseboard. 

Carl’s passion was Outer Space and mathematics, his hero’s never athletes or rock stars, but scientist like Richard Dawkins, Neil Degrasse Tyson, Bill Nye and Stephen Hawking. A large poster of Einstein smoking a pipe with the galaxy billowing out of it like smoke hung on his door, a tall bookshelf to the right of the moon struck window in front of him housed meteors of several varieties, some more rare and expensive like Moldavite, only found in the Czech Republic. 

He wondered what secrets they held. If the metaphysical energy of lives previously lived somehow existed in the memories of these ancient formations, or it life simply burned out like stars and simply ceased to exist once snuffed out. He cynically assumed the latter. He stared at the click of the doorknob, when his father poked his head in. 

“Hey, you’re awake.” Rick smiled nervously he assumes Carl hadn’t slept at all. He was already dressed in his denim shirt and Carhartt jacket and cowboy boots. Rick pushed his round silver glasses up the bridge of his nose and looked at the digital clock on Carl’s nightstand that read 5:45 A.M. 

“Just let me shower.” Carl stood up slowly and grabbed his cane beside his bed and fastened the plastic cuff around his wrist. “Dad please, I’ll be down in a few minutes.” He promised trying not to look annoyed by his fathers close surveillance. 

“Oh, yeah,” Rick tried to sound indifferent, “O’ course, I’ll be down stairs—with mom—and Judith.” He hovered. 

“Dad.” 

“Yeah! Okay, okay!” Rick scurried out of the teenager’s room. 

 

____________________________________

 

Lori lit the gas burner of the stove after an extended, click, click, click, before the blue flames puffed out beneath the skillet where she poured thin pancake batter. It’s a gray morning, as most mornings in Winter Forest Connecticut seem to be post August. 

The coffee maker percolated and gargled as the machine squeezed out the last drops of water from the basin and Judith happily crunched on cheerio’s in her high chair. She heard Rick’s heavy boots thumping down the old wood stairs into the kitchen of the old farm house that was much larger than they expected for their budget, but it’s age and need of repairs landed this diamond in the rough right in their price rage. 

“Good morning,” She smiled at him from the old claw foot stove that sat before a large bay window that wrapped around most of the kitchen overlooking the heavily wooded back yard. 

“Good morning,” He kissed her cheek and made his way over to Judith where he sat down and finger fed her the cheerios. “Where’s Satan?” Rick grumbled as he looked around the floor. 

“Rick, stop. He’s sweet if you give him a chance.” Lori reprimanded her husband just as the click, click, click, of ‘Satan’s’ nails came marching down the hallway and into the kitchen. 

“Hm!” Rick groused as the stalky dachshund waddled into the kitchen with his floppy ears and expectant eye’s searching for Carl. 

“Dog!” Judith chirped happily and pointed. 

“Or Lucifer,” Rick smile and fed her another cheerio as Gilbert the dachshund passed with a growl. Gilbert was a birthday gift for Carl four months ago, a rescue from the pound that turned out to be one of the meanest little dogs Rick has ever encountered. Fortunately Carl was enamored with the little bastard. 

“There’s my sweet little boy!” Lori sang and crouched down to the floor so the sausage shaped dog could hop to her knees and giver her kisses. “Who’s my darling little mushy, mushy?” She scratched his cheeks and floppy his ears. 

“Really?” Rick criticized. 

“He likes everyone except you, so I have to side with him my love.” She gave her husband a smirk as she stood to flip the pancakes. 

“It’s my fault?” Rick almost laughed.

“Maybe he thinks you don’t like him.” Lori shrugged. 

“I don’t.”

“Why? He’s very sweet.”

“Seems angry to me.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Well, he’s German.” She reasoned with a small laugh. 

“Ah, yes, the Wurst of the Father Land,” Rick chided as he flicked a cheerio to the floor for the deceivingly adorable dog to snack on. 

“Anyway!” Lori sang to signal a shift in conversation. “Do you need me to pick him up today?” She asked over her shoulder. 

“No baby, he’s going to be done around 3:30, I’ll drive to the hospital right after class.” He smiled at her. He knew his wife felt guilty for having a busier schedule than he did. However Lori’s wasn’t fixed and neat like his and her hours were much longer. “Hey, your connections and knowledge is why he was able to even get treated at Yale, our parts are different but equal.” He assured her as she handed him a plate of steaming pancakes and his coffee. 

“Carol called me last night, told me he was having second thoughts about the treatments.” She tried to sound stoic, but the clearing of her throat gave her away. 

“Well, he doesn’t get to do that.” Rick bit coldly. 

“Rick.”

“I know,” He fixed his eyes hard on. “It’s complicated, he’s a patient, you’re a doctor, but we’re parents and its up to us to decide what’s best.” He instantly felt tight in his chest. 

“That’s easy for us to say, we’re not the ones going through it.” She reasoned. Rick wanted to puke. 

“H—how can you say that!” He was suddenly yelling at her and standing up. Gilbert scuttled under the table. 

“I’m not saying we should let him give up, Jesus Christ Rick, I’m his mother!” She shouted. “But he is more than our son. He is also a person, a patient that is suffering through something beyond our experience to weigh in on without taking his own wishes in to consideration.” She choked back her tears and hoped Carl hadn’t heard them as she went to pour coffee for herself. 

“So…What did Carol suggest?” He whispered through his hands as he pushed them up under his glasses to rub his eyes. She sucked in a shaky breath as she placed the carafe back on the hotplate and wrapped her thin finger around the warm mug. 

“That we stop making his cancer about us and start treating him like what he wants matters too.” She said without looking at her distraught husband. 

 

___________________________________

 

Rick helped Carl situate his cane and backpack once they climbed into the silver Volvo wagon. Carl refused to stop studying when he was removed from public school; this gave his parents hope that he still believed in a future for himself. The black seats were icy to the touch and the windows frosted over and sparkling as the sun peeked through the clouds. “Oh, my god, what is that giant flaming orb of light in the sky!” Carl cried sarcastically. Humor, Carl still had it on some days and Rick chuckled at how simple a pleasure it is to hear his son joke about something. 

“Don’t get much of that here in Winter Forest.” Rick commented as he fastened his seatbelt. 

“Hey, maybe we can go to the comic book store later?” Carl asked hopefully. “You know if I’m not all miserable and everything.”

“Yeah, we can do that.” Rick smiled and turned in his seat to back out of the driveway.

 

_______________________________________

He sat in the same large cushy chair that he always had when receiving I.V administered medications and treatment. The room was filled with several rows of the reclining chairs, but most people picked one and claimed it. So he sat, bored to death, and waited for the poison to slowly drip into his blood stream. On the bright side, the sun was exceptionally luminous by noon and if poured into the treatment waiting room with warmth. 

He stared out of the large wall of windows looking over the playground/park area four stories below and wondered if Dr. Peletier would let him go down to sit on a bench after his I.V was finished. A few chairs down he fixed his eyes on Enid, who was his only friend here now that Patrick died last month and Sofia the week before that. He could tell she did not want to be engaged right now. Her tumors caused a drastic moodiness some days that made her lash out and say terrible things. It wasn’t her fault. And now that her hair is gone he suddenly felt self-conscience of his own, like he was flaunting it just by having it. 

“I told you I don’t need yer damn help!” A man’s voice barked angrily making Carl jump in his seat. He looked over to see Andrea, his favorite nurse, assisting an older bald man with and oxygen tank and I.V pole. He was moving so slow it almost gave Carl anxiety just watching him.

“So, if I let you go you’re not gonna fall?” Andrea asked mirthfully not letting the man’s anger faze her. 

“Fall?! Listen blondie, I’m strong as an ox!” He groused.

“And I believe you, but it makes me feel better to help you.” Andrea rolled her eyes. “Nice and easy now, there you go!” She eased him into the chair directly across from Carl. 

“Yeah, yeah! Go on now, shoo!” The man dismissed her. 

“I’ll be back to check on you in half an hour.” She promised.

“Ah! Well, I’ll be sittin’ here all bright eyed and bushy fuck’n tailed!” He sang in his raspy voice. “Ok Mr. Dixon,” She chuckled under her breath and smiled at Carl as she walked away. 

“What are you starin’ at dingle berry?” The man barked at Carl, who hadn’t realized he was staring. 

“Something ugly,” Carl fired.

“Ha! You look like an Ewok.” He shot back. 

“You always such a grouchy bastard?” 

“Hey! Don’ make me go over there ’n thump yer tater!” 

“At the pace you move I could go back home and come back tomorrow before you made it over here.” Carl rolled his eyes. The man had a deep scowl on his face for a long moment before bursting into a fit of laughter. 

“Oh, boy! Ain’t you a rowdy little shit!” He rumbled in his strained voice like he needed to turn up his oxygen. “Let me guess, you're the guy that sticks up for kids on the playground?” 

“If I have to,” Carl watched him turn a knob on the tank and he visibly relaxed. 

“Well,” He said, suddenly serious again. “I’m sure there’s a special place in heaven just for you.” His words were hard to read into, Carl couldn’t tell if the man was being sarcastic or ridiculous. 

“I don’t believe in god.” He stated plainly with no bite to his tone. Mr. Dixon observed him for a moment as he heaved in through the tube under his nose. 

“My name’s Merle,” He introduced himself.

“Carl.” 

“Well, Carl, they’ve rearranged my treatment schedule.” He shifted and wrapped his robe tighter around himself, he shivered and coughed. “So I’ll be your new chair mate, I like this chair.” He finished with a nod. Carl smirked and then he actually smiled braces and all.

“I think I’m good with that.” 

“I was hopin’ you’d say that.” He laughed to himself, “I usually run people off.” 

“Well, you are a dick.” Carl shrugged. 

“An’ you call it like it is, Frick n’ Frack.” He smiled big like a kid proud of himself for making his first friend at school. But Carl liked him, for some reason he couldn’t put his finger on, maybe it’s because Merle didn’t give a shit if Carl has cancer and he just spoke to him however he wanted. It could bring something less angst ridden to his treatments instead of having to deal with other kid’s his own age that either felt sorry for themselves all the time or that were ready to die just to stop burdening their parents, being a form cancer by default. 

 

__________________________________________________

 

The air had a frosty bite to it, but the sun was thick with warmth against his skin while he sat on the bench and breathed in the icy air letting it open his lungs and stifle his anxiousness. The Interferon usually left him pleading for death, but today was a random relief from the agony. 

The park behind the hospital was landscaped with giant boulders and thick trunked trees that webbed their giant roots atop the emerald green grass. 

He was alone aside from a man who plopped down in one of the swings a few minutes ago and lazily pushed himself back and forth with the heels of his boots. The man had shaggy long hair and a scruffy goatee and he smoked two cigarettes in a row. 

Carl watched as the man smoked and wondered what kind of an idiot still does that? And in all the places the Oncology Hospital, doesn’t he see what people with cancer look like, how they suffer? 

And just then, another thought all together crossed the fourteen year olds mind. What if the man wasn’t stupid at all, but wise? 

Perhaps he saw the suffering in all its forms and realized that life is just one mean ass bitch. There are cancer patients in this hospital that have that lived clean lives, exercise, vegetarian, children who haven’t lived long enough to suffer the ramifications of health choices and yet their bodies still turn on them. And then you have people who do the exact opposite and live far longer than most of them will ever have the privilege. 

So maybe this guy was smart, he’s going do whatever he wants and live his life not let it live him. Of course, Carl realized he may be romanticizing a bit. 

Carl inhaled more frosty air and stood up feeling determined and wheeled his I.V poll down the pristine sidewalk toward the smoking man on the swing. 

“Hi,” Carl stated simply. The man glanced up at him through his long bangs and assessed the boy for a moment. Daryl recognized him instantly. 

“Hey,” 

“Can I get one?” Carl asked pointing to the cigarette between Daryl’s fingers. He barked out a short laugh at the boy.

“What, you don’ got enough cancer?” He criticized and took a hard pull from the Marlboro. 

“At least my cancer’s spoken for you’re just working towards it.” Carl said curtly. Daryl shook his head.

“Why the fuck you wanna smoke anyway?” He groused impatiently. 

“Because I’ve never done it and I’ve got nothin’ to lose.” He reasoned.

“You ain’t dead yet kid.”

“But I will be.”

“We all will be.”

“Then give me a damn cigarette!” Carl demanded feeling annoyed. Daryl huffed out an indignant laugh and dug the pack of Marlboros out of his shirt pocket.

“Boy, you better not get me in no trouble, your daddy’ll whoop my ass up n’ down this park.” He warned with no real bite. 

“A lot of people seem to forget that it’s my life too.” Carl grumbled and clumsily observed the cigarette Daryl handed him. He took the blue lighter and placed the orange filter between his lips feeling insecure about what the hell he was supposed to do next. He flicked the lighter and lit the cigarette…nothing…”Is that it?” He asked skeptically. 

Daryl chuckled.

“You gotta inhale, twerp.” 

“Oh…” He mumbled and placed the cigarette between his lips again and sucked in a mouth full of smoke.

“Now breathe in through y’r mouth,” Daryl instructed. Carl did and instantly felt his lungs burn and protest in violent heaves and coughs.

“Ugh! That’s awful!” He barked between hacks and Daryl couldn’t help but laugh heartily in the boys expense. 

“Oh shit!” He laughed and held his stomach, “Slow down little ass kicker!” 

“Shut up!” Carl snapped feeling embarrassed.

“You done yolo-ing today?” Daryl chuckled. Just then a silver Volvo pulled up and Daryl snatched the cigarette from the boy once he realized who the driver was. Rick climbed out of the car and waved as he approached. Daryl swallowed hard as he too stood up and swung his backpack over his shoulders and tucked his thumbs under the straps. Rick had an amused smile as he came up the sidewalk and Daryl allowed himself to look the handsome dad over. Damn he’s sexy. He took two quick pulls off the cigarette before stomping it out. 

“Daryl, I see you’ve met my son!” Rick smiled proudly as he placed a hand on Carl’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, cool kid.” He nodded nervously. 

“He’s a great kid.” Rick doted. “How’s Merle?”

“Wait—you guys know each other?” Carl finally spoke. “And you know Merle?”

“Merle’s m’ brother,” Daryl told him. It made sense now.

“And Daryl and I met yesterday in the waiting room.” Rick chimed in. 

“I like Merle.” Carl told them.

“You do?” Daryl nearly fainted. 

“Yeah, I mean….he’s a douche….but—I mean….I dunno…he’s cool.” He explained to a shocked Daryl. 

“Well, you guys are strangers here like us. Maybe you’d like to have dinner with us some time?” Rick offered with a smile that put butterflies in Daryl’s stomach. 

“Uh—yeah, I mean…I’d hate to expose your wife and kids ta Merle though.” He cringed.

“No way he’s all bark just call em’ out on his shit he likes that.” Carl laughed.

“Language.”

“Sorry dad,” He blushed. 

“You sure?” Daryl asked trying not to sound too hopeful. 

“Absolutely, I’ll talk to Lori about it and make a date.” He smiled again and Daryl felt an extra giddiness at the word date. He wished. 

“Sounds great, Rick, thanks.” He blushed pink and tried to hide behind his hair. They exchanged phone numbers and said goodbye. Daryl watched Rick and Carl walk away discussing a comic book store the boy wanted to go to and he found himself staring a bit too hard at the dad’s perfect bubble butt and how the denim hugged those delicious cheeks. 

Just as Daryl was about to shake it off and go on his way he saw Rick stop as he opened the car door to look at him with an expression Daryl could not read. Rick pushed his round silver glasses up his nose and climbed into the Volvo leaving Daryl feeling a little wrecked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Merle and Carl make the cutest friends, lol. Anyway, I hope you liked it and will bookmark to stay up to date.
> 
> As alway's, feel free to offer suggestions <3


	4. Grief, its whats for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! First let me say how sorry I am that it has taken SO long for this update. Thank you so much to all of you who have stayed with me and this woeful story, it means so much <3  
> I really hope you love this chapter and find it worth your wait.
> 
> Also, I would like to thank Jayj456 & Caryldixonandgrimes (Stacy) for being my Betas, you're both amazing :)

 

 

 

  
~~**~~

 

The teacher’s break room always smelled of coffee and was stifling hot, so much so that Rick sat nearest the old drafty window that was so antique that the glass rippled and distorted the view of the courtyard. Icy rain drizzled heavily as he stared past the peeling white window pane and lost himself in thoughts about his family.  
Would Judith grow up without a brother? Would he be the father who had to move past burying his teenage son so that he could be strong and present for his daughter? Would his marriage survive the death in their souls once he had passed? Rick began to get sucked into the vortex of contingencies.

“God _damn_!” A man’s voice boomed.

“Negan,” Rick greeted.

“I swear man,” Negan shook his head as he pulled out the seat opposite to Rick. “This is the only room warm enough that my balls can drop.” Negan plopped down and looked the room over to make sure they were alone. He smirked and dug into his tattered briefcase pulling out a silver flask. “Fuck this shit,” He grumbled, mostly to himself.

“It’s only noon, bad day already?” Rick asked. He liked the older man, who was also an English teacher and taught creative writing on the side. He was, Rick thought, a quintessential literary type, being that he was a chain smoking, alcoholic with suicidal tendencies. Negan was the Edgar Allen Poe of Winter Forest Connecticut.  
He also hated teaching high school where student’s possessed no respect or talent for the language that they spoke or wrote.

“It’s always a bad day!” Negan chuckled, darkly. He took a long pull from his flask and then licked his lips. “I believed the lie, bro. The lie that teacher’s made a difference, but kids have no thirst for knowledge or education.” He harrumphed, and kicked his boots up on the table. “Makes me wanna kill myself.” He grumbled.

“How very Hemingway of you,” Rick said, but acknowledged the truth in the man’s words. Negan laughed and took another swig of his whiskey.

“Think I can get away with a cigarette in here?” He asked dubiously, knowing Rick would protest, but he loved watching him squirm at thought of breaking rules.

“ _Hell_ , no!” Rick chuckled in disbelief. “There happens to be strict laws about smoking these days.” He informed, sharply. Negan was his bad influence, and more times than he cared to admit he was tempted by the sense of rebellion that his colleague encouraged. But he never indulged such whims.

“ _Bah_! Fuck’n losers,” Negan rolled his large brown eyes. “All these fool’s, their just postponing their fate, the inevitable fact that we are all hurtling towards death and there is nothing we can do about it.” He chuckled ominously. “People are so pathetic.” He took another swig.

“You’re macabre, yet dubiously on point…” Rick chuckled. They fell into a comfortable silence for a long while before Negan cleared his throat.

“How’s your son?” He asked, gruffly. Rick’s lips pressed into a deep frown as he exhaled through his nose and chose his words.

“Stronger than both Lori and I,” He stated. Negan gave his colleague a wry smile and nodded knowingly.

“Man, when was the last time you went out?” He asked. Rick laughed and shook his head dismally.  
Negan huffed dramatically and looked down at his thick fingers that were gripping the flask. He didn’t know what to say or how to act in these situations. All he knew was that he would have given anything to reach over and pull Rick in by the back of his neck, for a deep and sensual kiss. Negan had wanted to kiss Rick from the moment he saw him at orientation. He found him to be so eloquent, so well-spoken and gently authoritative. A man like him, Negan knew was a treasure to behold.

“Uhm…” Negan broke the silence. “Maybe we could go out, or something…” His eyes fell to  
the floor before Rick could look at him. Rick smirked as he contemplated the proposition.

“That sounds nice, but it would have to be next weekend.” He told his colleague. Negan nearly melted as his heart began to pitter patter with excitement. He wanted to jump straight to, “ _Will you move in with me?_ ” but bit his tongue and tried to hide the color rising in his stubbled cheeks.

“Yeah, man, just let me know.” He said, gruffly and repressed his smile. He could tell Rick liked the sound of it too, a night out to clear his mind with his new friend.

“Lori and I are having some friends over for dinner tomorrow.” Rick informed, he would have been fine with inviting Negan, but he didn’t want to overwhelm Lori, plus he was a little nervous about meeting this Merle character.  
But decided not to stress about it. Carl liked him and that’s all that mattered. Carl also liked Daryl and that seemed to matter more to Rick than he cared to admit. So he also decided not to think about that.

He watched Negan pull a book called _“All The Light We Cannot See”_ out of his horribly beaten briefcase and proceeded to read. Rick liked that book, even made it required reading for his students this year.  
As he watched the other man fall into the literary world of the books contents, Rick allowed Daryl to flutter back into his thoughts as he stared out of the window and listened to the rain pattering against the glass.

 

  
~~**~~

 

Rick watched nervously as Carl raised the ax in the air, his weak arms unsteady. He knew better than to let the sickly boy exert himself so much, but he also knew that Carl needed to feel useful and capable, at least once in a while.

The boy tried not to overthink it as he brought the heavy blade down. It struck the log dead center, and for a split second he felt proud of himself as he huffed out large clouds of condensation. But the ax merely planted into the pine and the log remained fully intact.

_“Fuck!”_ Carl cursed, angry with himself. He couldn’t understand why he was so weak; there were so many kids in the oncology wing that were worse than him. Yet he found himself unbearably frail and completely devoid of worth when he felt he was needed the most. It was after all, his fault his dad had to leave his job and struggled to get one here in Connecticut. It was his fault that his parents had to buy another home they probably couldn’t afford just so they could uproot their lives and watch him wither away like a sun starved plant. And it was his fault that Judith was always an afterthought because of her older brother that couldn’t even splint firewood. And it was most likely his fault that his mother was afraid to love him, right?

“Hey! C’mon, son!” Rick reprimanded. “It’s only a log, no big deal.” But his tone was none too harsh. He had been meditating on the log, willing it to splinter right down the center, just to see Carl pleased with himself.

“That’s _exactly_ why it’s a big deal!” Carl shouted, indignantly. Rick stuffed his frozen fist deep into the pockets of his car-hart jacket, his glasses sliding down his nose. He looked up over the pitched roof of the tall farm house and into the dark snow clouds above. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he felt broken and desperate. He watched the remaining leaves of the maple tree that towered over the back, north east corner of the house rustling in the cold wind. The brilliant gold colors of the straggling leaves appeared muted in the blue gray hew.

The late autumn air was thick with the scent of burning firewood from neighboring houses and mildew from damp leaves. He wondered if Carl was capable of appreciating such innocuous things anymore or if too much of his young life was consumed by the thought of dying a slow and miserable death while his family watched.

What was he going to do? His words eluded him always, when it came to Carl. He never knew what to say that would offer any valid comfort or support. He knew that his son was right to be angry, not with himself, but with the world. What a fucking mess his short life turned out to be.

“I’m sorry.” Rick said, squeezing his eyes shut and his chin dropped again so that he could look at Carl. His son still stared at the log, the ax wedged into the wood; he sucked in a ragged breath and rubbed his right eye.

Rick tried not to overthink it, it was probably nothing to worry about. But he remembered with crushing guilt how he thought Carl’s fatigue and inability to stay awake for more than a few hours at a time was nothing too. How every time Lori mentioned having him looked at for the dark splotches on his skin he dismissed them as bruises because the boy was clumsy sometimes.

He would never forget that day, that exact moment when he sat across from Doctor Granger’s desk after having some blood work and a CT scan done on Carl. He didn’t know what to expect, maybe vitamin deficiency or anemia, but never the grave look in the old doctors eyes when he looked him dead in the face and said:

“Your son has stage two Myeloid Leukemia.” The doctor had known Rick and Lori since Carl was born and his heart broke when he saw that Rick didn’t entirely grasp what he had been told. “Carl has cancer, Rick.” Doctor Granger explained, sympathetically. And ever since then, Rick obsessed over every abnormality in his son’s behavior.

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately, rubbing your eye.” He noticed, aloud.

Carl shrugged, “Just feels weird.” He mumbled. Carl took a few steps back and rested on the cold hood of his dad’s Volvo. “I’m sorry I get so angry.” He apologized, his shoulders slumped and his eyes doleful.

“Hey, it’s all good.” Rick tried to sound light hearted. “It can be frustrating for anybody, especially in your condition.” He said, walking over to squeeze the boy’s frail shoulder.

“Dad—“ Carl started, and by the tone of the question, Rick knew that he didn’t want to hear the rest of his son’s thought.

“Yeah?” He asked his voice gruff as he tried to remain stoic. Carl looked up at him for the first time, searching his father’s face.

“I’m sorry this happened to you.” He said, and Rick almost died. He choked back his tears and sat on the hood next to his son and wrapped him in a one armed hug.

“Look at me.” He said, sternly and took Carl’s chin into his hand to force the boy’s eyes to look at him. “You make my life so _wonderful_.” His voice broke and he kissed Carl’s forehead, and the boy choked on his tears as he wrapped his arms around his dad and squeezed him tightly. “You’ll always be my special little boy.” Rick’s voice whined through his sobs. “Don’t you ever forget that, okay, promise me.” Carl nodded against his chest and then pulled away.

“I promise, dad.” He sniveled into his dad’s car-hart jacket. “Ouch…” He grumbled, rubbing his right eye again.

“I’m getting concerned about that,” Rick said, and cleared his throat.

“Its fine probably a side effect of the Interferon.” He countered. “Thanks for always being here, it’s not as easy with mom.” He mumbled. Rick wiped Carl’s tears away with his denim sleeve before his own.

“This is a very complicated situation for her.” Rick explained. “She just—“

“Sees me as another one of her patients,” Carl finished. “She’s protecting herself.” He added, not accusative but empathetic. Rick wasn’t sure his heart could take much more of their conversation. Why did everything have to be so fucking hard?

“No, no, she’s just—she just wants to be here for you in a way that I can’t.” Rick explained.  
Carl digressed, not wanting to upset his father any more than he already had. Maybe, he hoped, someday, if he lived through this he would have a chance to make up for all the pain and suffering he put his parents through. He felt he had robbed them of raising a normal family, the kind of family people dreamed about filling photo albums of memories with their children. But instead, they got stuck with him. And Judith would forever be eclipsed by the memory of the brother she never knew.

“Everyone copes in their own way.” He said, with a tight lipped smile. Rick opened his mouth to speak but was cut off when he and Carl heard the unmistakable roar of a motorcycle coming down the road just before it turned into their driveway, the gravel crunched loudly beneath the tires.  
The bike was a beautiful all black Triumph Thruxton. The headlight shone brightly in the late evening and the rider wore a denim jacket with black corduroy’s rolled up over dark brown combat boots.

“Whoa!” Carl stood up too quickly with excitement and almost almost fell over but Rick stabilized him.

“Where’s your cane?” Rick asked, as he looked around for it. He reached over and grabbed it from the woodpile that it was propped against. “Here,” He handed it to his son. Carl fastened it around his wrist and hobbled over to Daryl.

“Hey Daryl!” Carl greeted. Rick watched as Daryl pulled off his helmet, licking his lips and sending his mop-like hair in a thousand directions before he shook his head like a wet dog and settled it into place. He too felt cheerful at the sight of Daryl, though it was a kind of excited that made him uncomfortable as old and repressed desires started to resonate deep inside his gut like insidious dark roots trying to penetrate his walls of denial that had remained solid, until now.  
He approached and heard Carl asking the other man one hundred and one questions about the bike he was straddling.

“Daryl,” Rick smiled and shook the man’s hand. He was surprised when Daryl pulled him in for a tight hug and a slap on the back.

“Hey man, hows it goin’?” He asked his tone upbeat and his mouth in a crooked smile that made Rick feel a little fuzzy in the head.

“It’s good bro, can’t complain,” Rick told him. “Is Merle OK?” He asked, suddenly concerned about the other man’s absence. Daryl rolled his eyes and smirked, looking both amused and annoyed.

“Uh, yeah, jus’ runnin’ a little late,” He said. “Stubborn bastard wanted t’ ride ‘is own bike.” He laughed.

“He’s all right to do that?” Rick asked and huffed out a small laugh, all the while drinking in every feature of the other man’s face.

“It’s a good day f’r ‘im.” Daryl nodded and blushed ever so slightly under the intensity of Rick’s crystal blue eyes.

“Dad!” Carl suddenly injected. “Can I go for a ride on his bike?” His eyes were wide with hope.

“Oh, yeah man, any time!” Daryl promised, and suddenly froze at Rick’s withering expression. “If its good wi’ y’r folks!” He added quickly and waved his hands dramatically in a, _whatever_ , manner. Carl gave his dad a pleading look and Rick really couldn’t think of a reason, beyond being a paranoid, overbearing parent, why he should say no. He trusted Daryl.

“Well…” He started to say, uncertain of whether or not he should commit. But once he saw Carl’s eyes light up and he bounced on his heels, Rick couldn’t say no.

“I— _suppose_.” He complied.

“Dad, thank you, so much!” He sang and leaned in for a clumsy hug. Daryl smiled big, and gave Carl a high five.

“Hell yeah, dude!” He cheered as he handed Carl the spare helmet he had strapped to the back of his bike.

Just then, Rick felt his heart drop and he knew Carl’s, almost fun, was going to be cut short. All three turned to the crunching sound of tires that came up the gravel driveway to see Lori’s dark red Lexus SUV pulling in.  
Carl’s face fell, instantly. Rick felt desperate to keep his son’s spirits up, so he went against his better judgment, which told him not to teach Carl that it’s ok to undermine his mother, but this would have to be an exception.

“Hey!” He whispered, to Carl as Lori was getting out of the car. “Later, _I promise_.” He gave his boy a wink and was rewarded with a bright smile. Daryl nodded with a smirk and gave Carl a little fist bump.

“You must be Daryl!” Lori hurried over, her smile warm and welcoming. She was so excited to have guests that she was practically buzzing.

“Yes, ma’am, ’n thank you f’r havin’ me ’n my brother over.” Daryl said, politely.

“Of course, we’ve not had a chance to meet anyone since we moved to Connecticut.” She told him as she kissed Rick and Carl, hello. “And you’re from Georgia, serendipitous?” She asked, rhetorically.

“Well, I hope Merle don’ scare y’all off, he’s all bark, I promise.” Daryl laughed, but he was nervous as he dismounted his bike. His brother wasn’t the type he would normally risk bringing for dinner at the home of a well-off and educated family. Hell, Daryl, himself wasn’t sure if he could pull it off, he was aloof but never offensive like his big brother often was.

“I’m sure he’s delightful.” Lori smiled. Carl snorted, _if only she knew_. But his heart was full and fuzzy at that moment. He couldn’t remember the last time his family did anything with anybody. For the first time in at least a year, he and his cancer would not be the center of attention.

“Sounds like him, right there.” Rick said, the sound of another motorcycle rumbled around the corner. Daryl jumped off his Triumph and stood next to Rick while Lori was telling Carl something about his next orthodontist appointment.

Merle roared into the driveway and swiftly dismounted his Harley and removed his helmet. He was wearing an oxygen tube under his nose that disappeared into a backpack he was wearing, and Rick noticed that he looked frail and malnourished.

The older man approached and looked between Rick and Daryl suspiciously. He had already made up his mind about Rick Grimes and the way his baby brother spoke about him was all he needed to know that Daryl was smitten.

As Merle got closer, his heavy black boots crunching the gravel, he saw exactly what he had imagined when he looked at Rick. A rich, educated man with good looks, he probably knew poetry and fancy words ’n shit. There was no way Merle Dixon was going to let his last days on earth be spent watching his poor baby brother get his heart shattered by this pretentious, closet case asshole.

“Well, ain’t you two jus’ a perfect lookin’ couple.” He sneered as he approached. Daryl blushed and looked down at his feet.

“Don’ tease Merle.” He mumbled, to his brother.

“No, not you two, ya _fruit loop!_ ” Merle groused, and rolled his eyes. “I meant the handsome feller an’ ‘is pretty wife!” He gestured to Lori, attempting to remind Daryl of the reality.

Rick chuckled and gave Daryl a quizzical look that made the poor guy wish for an aneurysm so that he could drop dead on the spot. Rick squeezed his shoulder and continued to smile as Daryl continued to deepen the shade of red in his cheeks.

“Hey Merle!” Carl greeted, happily. “I like your backpack.” He pointed to the black nylon bag that held Merle’s oxygen tank to his back.

“Y’r behind the times kid,” He said, in his raspy voice. “They’re all the rage in the East Wing of oncology. Guess you Peds kids in the North East Wing ain’t that trendy.” Carl laughed and introduced his new friend to his parents. Merle took it upon himself to give Rick’s hand an extra firm squeeze.

Everyone took a moment to say hello before Lori deemed it too cold to stand around outside, any longer. She ushered the three men and Carl into the warm farm house that smelled of pine, firewood and a cinnamon candle that burned in the entrance on a small table to the left of the staircase. The old wood plank floors creaked and protested as the furnace kicked on and pumped warm air through the ducts just in time to make their fingers burn and thaw with renewed blood flow.  
Gilbert came barging down the hallway, howling and barking. Rick instantly panicked as Judith was taking a nap upstairs.

“Whoa! Look at you, li’l sausage dog!” Merle laughed, and crouched down for Gilbert to sniff his hand. “Don’ you bite me now, or I’ll knock ya till Tuesday.” He warned, with no real threat in his tone.

Naturally, Gilbert liked Merle and he also liked Daryl as the brothers took turns picking him up and fawning over how cute he was. Then Daryl, not knowing any better, tried to hand him off to Rick, who received a snarling protest.

“ _Fuck you_ , Gilbert.” Rick said, stubbornly.

“He doesn’t mean it!” Carl defended, as he took the evil dachshund into his arms.

“Sure looks like he did.” Daryl smirked. Rick almost countered with something snide, but once he saw Gilbert melt into Carl’s arms like caramel taffy, he hated the little bastard a little less. Carl and that angry little dog caught lightning in a bottle from the moment they saw each other at the Humane Society.

“He makes Carl happy ’s all that matters” He said.

“Nice place ya got ‘ere!” Merle observed, as he looked around the rustic colonial.

“Yeah, ’n it smells really nice, too.” Daryl added, and gave Rick that crooked smile again, the one that showed his perfect teeth and made Rick’s head fuzzy.  
He just nodded, feeling a little light headed and confused. Lori called them down the hall and into the kitchen.

It was only moments before everyone fell into an easy conversation about where they came from, places they’ve been, place they’d like to go. Daryl and Merle laughed with Lori as they shared war stories about their sibling rivalries and helped her prep dinner.

Carl and Rick set the table and Judith bounced in her jumper while Gilbert waited patiently for her to drop animal crackers. And for that small moment, Rick felt an overwhelming sense of warmth towards every person in that room for being in his life. At this moment, there was no cancer, no death, no pain, it was as if these people came together for the first time and created a safe haven from the world, a sanctuary.

 

 

~~**~~

 

 

Lori observed her family and their new friends as they sat around the dining room table, she was grateful for a night of distraction from their daily circumstances.  
She felt her heart swell as she watched Carl laugh while he and Merle failed to covertly flick peas at each other from across the table.

Rick and Daryl couldn’t get enough of each other and their conversation had gone in a million different directions before coming full circle about how they attended the same Fleet Wood Mac concert in Savannah a few years back. And Lori couldn’t help but notice how Daryl’s cheeks pinked a little too much when he spoke to her husband. Not that it bothered her, she understood more than anybody why someone would find Rick attractive, inside and out.

The evening had grown dark outside and everyone felt the buzz from their wine. Lori, surprisingly, took to Merle quite well. They both loved Turner Classic Movies and horror films the only thing they argued about was Alfred Hitchcock, “Birds,” versus Spielberg’s, “Jaws.”

Daryl and Rick discussed their favorite places in Atlanta, an old record store and some comic book shops that Carl liked. It was strange how they had seemed to be orbiting each other for years and never aligned before now.

It was then that Merle realized he had been distracted by how much he liked the Grimes family and nearly forgot his plan to sabotage, whatever it was, that was taking place between Rick and his little brother. His eyes narrowed as he watched the older English teacher tell a funny story about some guy he grew up with named Shane, Daryl all but flipped his hair and giggled like a damn school girl.

“Can we not talk about Shane right now?” Lori implored. “I’m still mad at him for not visiting us last month.” She said, stabbing a potato with her knife. She was a bit sore with her husband’s childhood friend; it seemed to her that as soon as things got too serious with Carl he absconded, making excuses as to why he couldn’t be there when Rick needed him most.

“But he said he’d be in New York in a few weeks, to meet him then!” Carl reminded her, Shane was like the big brother he never had and Lori knew he wouldn’t stand for any nay saying about the man in question.

“You know, being close to the city, I’d love to see Broadway.” Rick injected, once his wife had pursed her lips with unspoken criticism about his best friend.

“That’d be cool.” Daryl agreed, looking as though he was embarrassed to speak. He hung his head and shoveled another fork full of lasagna in his mouth. He could feel his brother’s eyes stabbing him repeatedly with judgment. Merle knew he was queer, they just avoided the subject, mostly because Daryl found it too awkward to discuss rather than his brother’s disapproval. But here he was, trying not to be obvious every time Rick smiled at him or told him how heroic his career as a firefighter was. He cleared his throat and scolded himself to get a grip, already. This man was not his to have and he had to accept that before he allowed his pounding heart to run away with itself.

“Why Daryl, I never knew you had a dream of being a big city show tunes queer.” Merle jabbed, making everyone at the table uncomfortable. He had had enough and he was going to end this before it started.

Daryl huffed an awkward laugh and flushed a deep red, already wishing he had left Merle home before the night had even started. Oh no, retreat, retreat, just jump up from the table and run, he told himself, his palms sweaty with embarrassment.

“I was the one who suggested it, Merle.” Rick said his tone clipped, feeling more defensive of Daryl than himself.

“I’m jus’ messin’ wit’ ‘em!” Merle declared and poked his brother’s rib.

“Not all of us still listen to our AC/DC cassette tapes, _like you_.” Daryl mumbled and Carl snorted.

“Shots fired!” The teenager instigated.

“Well, ain’t you a little traitor.” Merle said, to Carl.

“It was a good jive, suck it up.” Carl giggled. Lori gave her husband a concerned look, she sensed the winds of disfunction picking up, quickly. Rick nodded to her and stood up, placing his cloth napkin on the table.

“Anybody want desert?” He asked.

“I’m glad you asked, I brought a fruit cake with me!” Merle shot, towards his little brother.

“Don’ make me turn off y’r oxygen!” Daryl warned. If he was going to murder his big brother, today was danm day.

“You never fought fair, you vicious _queen!_ ” Merle’s voice rose and his face reddened.

“Stop callin’ me shit like that!” Daryl shouted. “I ain’t no _faggot!_ ”

“Guys!” Rick injected to no avail.

“I’ll call you whatever I damn want!”

“How about some damn respect, Merle!”

“Oh, I didn’ mean to make y’r pussy hurt, remind me to pick you up some Vagisil on the way home!” Merle bit. Carl’s eyes bounced between them like a ping pong match.

_“Enough!”_ Lori shouted, over the bickering brothers. “Daryl, go with Rick into the kitchen and help with desert. Merle, you sit here with me and stop antagonizing your brother!” She reprimanded, full mom mode activated.

Both men pouted for a moment before Daryl jumped up with his plate in hand. He grabbed Merles with contempt and stormed off into the kitchen with Rick in toe.

 

~~**~~

 

Their kitchen was a typical country style kitchen with white cabinets adorned with frosted glass that glowed warmly with the lights from inside. The counters a rich poplar butcher block with ribbons of red and green throughout the wood grain. And a narrow staircase with a small basket of pinecones and firewood on the landing used for the small fireplace in the wall opposite the large island.

Daryl placed the dishes in the white porcelain sink and tried to recover from his embarrassment. He felt the other man’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t turn around yet, he couldn’t believe it was possible to feel so humiliated without dying. His eyes peered out of the diamond lead window and into the forest just beyond the property. Thousands of birch trees, their golden leaves thinning out and leaving skeletal host to slumber through the coming winter months. He heard Rick’s footsteps approach from behind as the man cleared his throat.

“You didn’t tell me that you two grew up in _Thunder Dome_.” Rick joked. Daryl tried to smile, it was kind of a funny joke, but his heart still pounded, angrily.

“I’m sorry.” Daryl mumbled, but still couldn’t look the other man in the eye. Rick watched him closely as he leaned against the butcher block counter and stared at his boots.

Despite his intentions, Rick also noticed how lovely Daryl’s profile was and how his biceps visibly bulged and flexed, even beneath his flannel sleeves.

“Hey, it happens.” Rick’s gruff voice pulled Daryl from his thoughts. “Please, don’t feel embarrassed.” He implored as he approached and placed his hand on the small of Daryl’s back. The moment he came in contact with Daryl’s body he regretted it, his desire to touch the other man intimately overshadowing his judgment. He wanted to touch him more, touch him in other places.

Daryl’s nerves blasted into a frayed frenzy that sent his skin erupting into millions of tiny bumps, from scalp to toe. His eyes locked on Rick’s, who suddenly looked like a young boy caught masturbating by his parents. He recoiled and rubbed his hand on his jeans as though he’d touched something potentially harmful.

“Jus’ don’t let him get under your skin like that.” Rick said, he swallowed thickly and stepped back a few paces. Daryl made a whining sound from his throat as though he was desperate for his brain to start functioning again.

“Uh—it’s complicated, ’s all,” He told Rick, and folded his arms tightly over his wide chest. “I only told ‘em I’ma fag a couple months ago. Guess he’s still adjustin’ ‘r some shit.” He mumbled and noticed that Rick’s eyes were so blue and so kind that he would’ve walked through fire and glass just to close the distance between them.

“You’re not a _fag_ , Daryl.” Rick told him and stepped closer, again. “He’ll come around, like you said, he’s just adjusting.” He smiled and squeezed the other man’s broad shoulder.

“He’s a good brother, he’s jus’ an asshole.” Daryl smirked and tried not to melt under Rick’s hand on his shoulder.

“My best friend, Shane,” Rick started and dropped his hand and tucked it into his pocket. “He’s always been a super macho, Jarhead type. And when his twin brother came out to him, he flipped out, I mean, acted like a complete asshole.” Rick shook his head at the memory. “But, after he calmed down he really started making an effort to let his brother know that he supported him. But he was still an asshole, it’s in his DNA,” He smirked and watched Daryl closely. “He made fun of him, called him stupid shit, like Merle was saying to you, until one day his brother broke his nose. He changed his tune after that,” Rick laughed, and was relieved to hear Daryl’s laughter echo his own.

“An’ their good now?” Daryl asked his stance relaxed.

“Inseparable,” Rick smiled. “Come to think of it…” He added with an amused grin.

“Wha’?” Daryl flashed that crooked smile, Rick’s new favorite thing.

“Shane’s brother, Sean is single,” Rick hinted, “They’re identical twins, very handsome.” He added and instantly felt a burn of jealousy at the thought of Daryl with another man.

Daryl chuckled, shook his head and said: “I’ll be seeing you once we go back to Atlanta, right?”

“Yeah, man, we’re friends now.” He reassured, but when the other man’s face fell, it suddenly dawned on him that Daryl would be going back to Georgia alone. And for that matter, he really wasn’t sure if they would even move back to Atlanta at this point. If Carl got better they would want to be near Dr. Pleteir. Not to mention the fact that both of them had started new careers here already. He felt miserably guilty over the thought of disappointing Daryl for reasons he was not willing to admit to himself, not yet, not now. They all had enough shit going on without… _this_.

“Thanks Rick,” Daryl said and he pushed off the counter. “Guess we should get that desert.” He suggested, but Rick was one step ahead.  
Daryl opened one of the frosted glass doors that Rick pointed to and retrieved five small plates as Rick pulled a homemade apple pie from the large stainless steel refrigerator. Both of them smiling to themselves as they worked in comfortable silence.

 

~~**~~

 

Lori sat with her arms crossed, glaring at Merle who withered like a scolded child. She felt so disappointed that he had shown her such deplorable behavior that she couldn’t help but wonder how he treated his brother behind closed doors.

“You’re _awful_.” She told him.

“Aw hell, he’ll be fine!” He argued.

“Fine isn’t good enough.” She scolded. “He uprooted his entire life to take care of you in your time of need and that’s how you treat him? In front of company, no less?” She shook her head in disbelief. She tried to imagine what kind of upbringing the two men had that would warrant such indifference to each other’s feelings and concluded she probably didn’t want to know.

“I Jus’—“

“Shame on you, Merle.” She cut him off, not interested in his excuses. His past was his past, it was no excuse to be cruel to Daryl.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, genuinely. It was typical behavior on his part, never knowing when to shut up. He just wanted to protect his baby brother the best way he knew how, which was to be a bombastic bully.

“Tell it to _Daryl_ , I mean it, you don’t know how much longer…” She trailed off and suddenly felt terrible that she had taken her reprimanding too far. “What I mean to say is that you should make him feel appreciated.” She finished, quietly.

“He’s all I got,” Merle confided, “I jus’ feel like a god damn burden all the time, so sometimes I get carried away. Makin’ fun o’ ‘em makes me feel like things are normal. Like I’m still the big brother, ya know?” He looked at her for understanding, his mouth in a deep frown and his eyes wide.

“I know,” She smiled warmly and placed her slender hand on his, “But make it right, while you can.”

“You’re a sweet lady, Lori.” He told her. “And a damn good mother.” He added. She laughed and blushed, she wasn’t very proud of maternal position these days.

“Well, what do you think of that, Carl?” She teased, looking over to him. “Carl!” She leapt out of her chair, followed by Merle. “Carl—Rick!” She cried as she grabbed her son who slumped limply in his chair, his eyes glassed over and his face red and glossy with sweat.

“Daryl!” Merle shouted, both men came hurtling into the room, Rick jumped over the chair and Daryl dove beside Lori who held Carl’s limp body on the floor and was dialing 9-11. She rattled off the address and Carl’s information to the operator. The boy’s eyes were alert but his fever was sending him into shock. He started to cough violently before vomiting.

“It’s OK squirt! You gotta doctor and a paramedic here.” Merle tried to console, but was out of his element.  
Rick lifted him up in one easy swoop and darted towards the bathroom, Lori two steps ahead of him and ran into the small bathroom and turned the cold water knob. The pipes groaned before the shower head sputtered and blasted icy water into the old claw foot tube where Rick placed his son.

“What happened?” Rick demanded from his wife.

“I don’t know!” She snapped and splashed the cold water on to the boy’s forehead, soaking his hair. She ran her hands through the long strands of chestnut colored hair in attempt to sooth him, but when she did, her heart stopped and her lungs constricted.The room fell eerily silent aside from the running shower. She looked at her long fingers and they were tangled in a large clump of wet hair.

“Aw, _no!_ ” Rick whined and keeled over, his hands on his knees and his face twisted in grief. He started to sob, he felt so weak when he should be strong. But this was something he wasn’t ready for. Carl’s body was rotting due to the treatments and he had never realized that something else could happen that would make this more agonizing.

“Rick, get out.” Lori ordered, though her voice was choking in attempt to hold back the stinging tears. She reminded herself that she was a doctor. Think like a doctor.

“Lori, I—“

“No, _you_ have to go. I can’t have you falling apart!” She told him and turned back to Carl, her whole torso soaked in the chill of freezing water from the lead pipes.  
Rick backed away disgusted with himself when he felt Daryl brush past him, not even knowing the other man had ever left the room. Daryl kneeled down next to Lori and coaxed Carl into a sitting position.

“Take these kid, it’ll help.” Daryl cooed, gruffly and fingered two white pills into Carl’s mouth, then placed a glass of water to his lips. Carl was slowly coming back to himself and looking panicked.

“Thank you Daryl.” Lori ran her hands over his face. Rick’s heart plunged into his gut as he watched his wife and a virtual stranger care for his son better than he could have. He was such a failure.

Merle gave Rick a look of deep empathy and squeezed his shoulder.

“Ya did good.” He said with a hollow voice. Rick stayed quiet and watched his son closely from the doorway. He watched Daryl wrap his boy’s hair in a clean towel as Lori pulled off the soaked cloths, leaving him in his underwear.

“I’ll get him some dry cloths.” Rick offered and left the room. He could hear the ambulance blaring towards them in the distance as he climbed the creaking stairs and kept replaying the image of Daryl stepping in to help Carl and Lori where he had failed to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK! So, I hope you're all further invested with these characters and their development. Please feel free to offer suggestion and feedback, it is always appreciated.


	5. Bitter Parallels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! This is an amazing feat for me because it usually takes months for me to update!  
> So, I would first like to thank MaroonCamero, Jaybez (Jayj456) for being my betas. XOXOXOXO!!!
> 
> I promise this chapter delivers a lot of feeling, some warm and fuzzy, some smut, and of course, angst.  
> Please enjoy, I appreciate all of you so much <3

~~**~~

Rick stood before his 8:00 AM class with his hands tucked into the back pockets of his jeans, his dark curly hairy disheveled and his face scruffy with salt and pepper whiskers. He peered expectantly at his students, his sapphire eyes sharp and questioning from behind his round silver glasses.  
A petite brunet girl with short hair and tomboy clothes raised her hand nervously.

“Miss Chambler, _please!_ ” He snapped, not at her per-say but with exasperation with his class’s lack of critical thinking. He had spent the whole weekend in the hospital while Carl was poked and prodded with needles and put through a multitude of test and scans. Doctor Peletier said she would know more by the end of the day or so she claimed. However, Rick was becoming less and less convinced of her competence by the hour.

He had started to choke on the lump that had been lodged in his throat, a cocktail of rage and sorrow punching and clawing at him from the inside, threatening to tear him in half and crawl out of his body like a demon. But the young girl’s voice gave him something to grab on to, like a life raft when she spoke.

“I feel like Emily Bronte was trying to convey how prejudice can harm someone’s sense of integrity to the point of permanently destroying them, leading to complacency and detachment. Like Heathcliff…” She said addressing the class just as much as her apoplectic teacher.  
Rick swallowed hard and nodded with approval, thank God for Tara Chambler, he thought, feeling relief at the break in tension throughout the class room.

“Thank you Tara, very perceptive.” He forced a tight smile.

“So…” Another girl spoke, then raised her hand quickly in fear of having Rick rip her face off. He had made it clear from day one that students must raise their hands.

“Yes, Sasha?” Rick nodded, sharply.

“So, it’s like Heathcliff became what he hated being accused of because his circumstance gave him no alternative, or so he believed?” She asked. Rick just stared at her blankly for a long while, not realizing he hadn’t responded.

“Mr. Grime’s are you all right?” Noah asked, he was a tall African-American boy who sat in the front row three desk’s to Rick’s left.

“ _No_ ,” He said sounding breathless and defeated. “No, I’m not all right.” He reaffirmed, mostly to himself, his voice husky and heavy. “I wish I could tell you all the truth, without losing my job, but I don’t know how!” He ran his hands through his hair and huffed out a loud laugh of indignant frustration.

“Fuck it, here it is!” He addressed his students who all sat at the edge of their seats now as they anticipated his rant, the word _fuck_ had fallen from their teachers lips, sounding foreign and abrasive from his otherwise eloquent vocabulary. All of them had known him long enough to adore him and understand his structure, even when he was harsh, which was most of the time. This moment of raw emotion and passion had them holding their breaths as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Noah, you’re an African-American young man and there will be people who hate you for it, for racist reasons they themselves don’t understand.” Rick told him, sullenly.

“Sasha, you’re biracial, there will be people who see you as tainted potential, as a halfbreed.” He gestured to her with his arm outreached. “And Tara, you’re gay which might be viewed as a product of faulty wiring or perversion!” He placed his hands on his narrow hips and shook his head as though he already knew he was in deep shit if this ever got back to the other teachers or his students parents.

“The world is cold and ugly, bad shit happens to good people and sometimes bad people get all the damn luck. It will make you bitter if you let your guard down, it will turn you into the embodiment of the very ignorance you hate.” He lectured, grabbing his tattered copy of Wuthering Heights from his desk and holding up over his head.

“ _Don’t_ become _Heathcliff_!” He shouted at them. “Because it’s easy to do, it is easy to let life eat you alive and turn you into an angry bastard!” He slammed the book down on his desk and was relieved to see every student in the room looking at him like an actual bearer of wisdom, their eyes wide and hungry for more.

“Why do we hate Heathcliff?” He asked, his voice softened. “Why have we been told to hate the only relatable character in this story?” He searched the room, his eyes combing each row of teenagers for someone with an answer.  
A small blonde girl with a sweet round face raise her hand nervously.

“Mika…” Rick gestured to her.

“Because he _is_ so relatable?” She looked uncertain, but he admired her for trying.

“Are you asking me? Because I can tell you what to think or you can choose for yourself,” He smiled, suddenly he felt vindicated for allowing himself to collapse as he watched every one of his students reel with questions and possibilities. “Do you find Heathcliff relatable?” He asked her.

“Yes,” She answered after a moment of thought. “Because we are all angry and slighted by something or someone, he’s like looking into a mirror and sneering back at us because we know him and yet we deny him.” She smiled at Rick’s satisfied grin.

“I disagree…” A girl named Denies mumbled.

“Well, don’t be shy. Why don’t you concur with Mika?” Rick challenged, excitedly.

“Um, I guess…because he got shafted, no doubt.” She straightened in her seat as she prepared to set up her argument. “The fact that Catherine told Nelly, referring to Heathcliff that: _‘He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same’_ , but Heathcliff wasn’t there for that part of her confession, he only heard her say that it would degrade her to marry him. A simple gap in communication changed the entire course of their lives all because he was too prideful to communicate with her, I feel like that makes Catherine Earnshaw very relatable.” Denise exhaled, finally.

“Because we’ve all been misunderstood haven’t we.” Rick smiled happily to no one in particular. “However, what reason did Catherine have to not convey her love to Heathcliff? Why did she feel justified in denying herself a life with the person she so desperately desired?” He asked before glancing at his watch and cleared his throat. “Okay, think about it. I want 1200 words doubled spaced on my desk by Friday.” He announced. “Grammar, sentence structure, spelling and _punctuation!_ ” He emphasized just as the bell trilled overhead. The classroom erupted into a symphony of books snapping shut, zippers being yanked and desk chairs scooting against the hardwood floor.

Rick sat down at his heavy oak desk as his students bustled by on their way out into the hall. His glasses slid down his nose a bit as he checked his phone for messages from Lori or Carl.  
The screen was blank, thank god, he thought, feeling relieved. No messages were good messages in his opinion. Suddenly he felt someone’s presence in the room as he looked up towards the door.

“How may I help, Miss Chambler?” He asked, gruff and patient. She walked closer, her expression thoughtful and cautious.

“I’m just curious,” She said, stopping a few feet away. “You told Noah, Sasha, and me why the world will challenge us but it wasn’t really about us, it was about you.” She observed as she watched him for a reaction. Rick leaned back in his chair and tapped the armrest with fist as he considered this.

“Are you asking me why I relate to Heathcliff?” He asked.

“Not really, Heathcliff was just a relevant segue for you to say what was on your mind since we’re reading the book. But it was personal and I want to know what it is about yourself that you’re so afraid of being judged for. Why has the world made you bitter, Mr. Grimes?” She asked him, direct and honest as he had always know her to be.

He grimaced, uncomfortable with the interrogation from his student. His fingers subconsciously scratched at his scruffy chin and his leg bounced nervously under her scrutiny. But he knew he owed her _something_ since he pointed out her vulnerability to everyone in class, he just wasn’t sure how much was enough.  
Then, like a lightning bolt searing into his brain, he bit down into his lip and squeezed his eyes shut with agony as the word _queer_ , fluttered across his mind.

“I’m a liar and a hypocrite.” He told her and leaned forward in his chair, placing his elbows on the desk.

“That’s very vague…it could mean a lot of different things.” She challenged, clearly unsatisfied with Rick’s answer.

“Indeed it does, now don’t be late for your next class.” He dismissed, sounding curt without having meant to. Tara shook her head and turned away and then marched to the heavy door, pausing with her hand on the knob before addressing him again.

“I didn’t choose to be gay.” She said, over her shoulder. “You choose to be a liar and a hypocrite.” And with that she pushed the door opened and disappeared, leaving Rick feeling mind-fucked.

 

~~**~~

  
The streets were wet and sleepy on Rick’s drive home. His coffee is hot against his fingertips as he held the Grande Pike Place cup to his lips, his elbow on the arm rest between the seats.

There was a street in Old Down Town Winter Forest that he loved and never grew tired of, a large fork in the road divided the two sides of town, one sloped downward to the right and the left continued into a steep incline. Between the two main streets was a large strange building that was once an old wood mill with a giant water wheel on the side that generated electricity from the swift running river beneath the overpassing bridges. It was now a Bed & Breakfast that he’d been meaning to bring Lori to ever since their move to Connecticut, though the luxury of time was never really on their side.

He veered to the right, as always, and was passing a small consignment shop called Stuff N’ Thang’s he’d been meaning to visit there as well, he thought. When he saw Negan standing outside, with a cigarette between his lips and a disgruntled crease between his eyebrows as he read the back of a small box; Rick chuckled at the sight of his infamously grouchy colleague and slowed to a stop, rolling down the passenger window.

“Did your mother ever tell you if you make those faces it’ll get stuck that way?” Rick called, teasingly as Negan glanced up at him and smirked.

“She also told me masturbating would make me go blind!” He laughed, the cigarette bobbed between his lips as he approached the silver Volvo.

“No wonder you’re such a prick, you haven’t jerked off in forty-six years!” Rick jived, watching Negan take a long drag off his Marlboro Red before he flicked it to the side and leaned into the window across from Rick. 

“The Volvo suites you, very soccer dad with a big…vocabulary…” Negan teased and his eyes glinted wickedly. It was strangely infectious for such a bitter man.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you were flirting with me, Negan.” Rick chuckled.

“Maybe a little,” Negan winked, his cheeks flushed just enough to give him away. In that moment Rick stopped smiling, his face blanked out as his mind went haywire. What the fuck is going on in his life? First Daryl, now Negan, it was getting to be overwhelming how much his inner Heathcliff was being antagonized. Negan, another man Rick would have _never_ thought of as a _faggot, a queer, sissy, cock sucker, homo, fudge packer!_ But there he was, all of these things, yet, Daryl nor Negan looked or acted the part. It was like being a queer wasn’t a mental malfunction after all, rather, it took many different shapes and sizes.

None of them were bad, he knew that, yet so much of him still fought with the homophobic demon that had been seeded inside of him since childhood. Gay men were supposed to behave a certain way and it was supposed to be obvious.

“Rick?” Negan cleared his throat, his eyes weary as he watched Rick’s discomfort settled deep in his gut.

“M—I’m sorry, I just didn’t know you were… ya know…” Rick stammered, stupidly.

“I’m gay Rick, it’s not an epithet.” Negan told him in his deep growly timber, but his expression became disappointed and concerned. “Is this a problem, man?” He asked more confused than offended, he had never pinned Rick for being homophobic or bigoted.

“Uh—no!” Rick laughed, anxiously, a Déjà vu of his first conversation with Daryl playing through his mind. “I’m just learning a lot about gay men lately, it seems.”  
An unusually soft and empathetic smile warmed Negan’s features, like he knew something Rick didn’t.

“It took me three failed marriages and three kids that hate my guts before I came to terms with it.” He told Rick, thoughtfully. “The worst part of it is knowing that lying to yourself for so long has drawn other people into the equation. People who don’t deserve it, people whose lives also become lies without them ever knowing it until it’s too late and you’ve wrecked their world.” He gave Rick a crooked smile and waved the small box he had been reading. “Anyway, I gotta get this home to my son, it’s a tiny tool kit for fixing old typewriters or some shit.” He grumbled with apathy.

“Oh,” Rick mumbled, not entirely processing everything his colleague had just told him.

“You should get home to your kid. I heard you had a rough weekend.” Negan tapped the roof of the car and stood up to walk away. Rick blinked and watched the large man lumber away toward his old green Land Rover Discovery.

“Negan!” He called, not sure of what he was going to say but he had to say something.

“Yeah?” Negan turned on his heel as he opened the door of his car, but Rick said nothing, in spite of how desperate he felt to leave things on better terms.  
Negan chuckled and waved. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rick.” He smiled, big and chuckled to himself as he stepped up into the Land Rover.

“Yeah, tomorrow!” Rick called back, but Negan was already in his car.

~~**~~

He pulled up to the house next to Lori’s Lexus and he started collecting his things; briefcase, manila folder of test he had to grade, cellphone, empty coffee cup, car keys. It was tedious and he was a bit clumsy as he tried to climb out of the car into the freezing cold.

“Motherfucker!” He shouted, spilling the small amount of coffee from the bottom of the cup into his lap and dropping his folder of tests to the ground where it busted open and the papers started whirling into the wind and across the gravel driveway. “Shit!” He chased after them, tripping and flailing like an idiot as he attempted to retrieve the papers, crinkling and crushing them in his frantic grasp.

Rick fell hard to his knees into the sharp gravel, his breathe sharp from gasping in the frozen air and his nerves felt frayed and reputed. Then suddenly like the avalanche had finally started to rumble and shift, his heart clenched and his chest contracted with precipitous sobs. He would be buried and crushed as the wave of grief pummeled his reserve and he welcomed it like an old friend patting him on the shoulder and saying. _“I understand.”_  
He didn’t know who he was crying for, his children, his wife, himself? Was there even a difference anymore?

“No, don’t, _please!_ ” He wept into his hands, begging his inner Heathcliff back into the darkness. _“Please, please, please!”_ Rick repeated the mantra, pleading as his head fell to the cold stones, his mouth drooling and his eyes red.

“Pretty girl, pretty girl, who is my pretty girl?” He sobbed quietly as his fingers laced through his curls and pulled at his scalp. “Sissy _faggot_ , stupid _pig_ …” He mumbled and then shot up, sitting back on the heels of his boots and grunted determinedly at the childhood memories that marred his mind and scared his heart.  
He let out a shuttered breath, releasing a thick cloud of condensation into the air and scolding himself inwardly. _“Pull yourself together._ ” He breathed in, deeply and focused on the cold, his tear streaked face suddenly tight in the dry icy air that bit at his skin and burned his nostrils. His eyes appraised everything around him, appreciating the skeletal trees that towered over the property like slumbering giants, completely exposed.

Rick wanted to slumber. His heart and his soul were tired and damaged, he would have given anything in that moment to be exposed and naked as the trees if it meant he could finally rest, if he could be like the like the trees.

He swallowed thickly and sniveled, allowing himself a few more moments of self-pity before he would have to damn Heathcliff to the shadows once more. Standing, he adjusted the papers back into the folder and wiped his scruffy face with his sleeves. “No more crying,” he told himself, sternly before his attention shifted to the uncomfortable coldness where the coffee had spilled in his lap.

 

 

~~**~~

 

 

The house was welcoming with its warmth and the fragrant smells of firewood and baking apples. Lori had finally discovered her flair in the kitchen—baking. However, it was not the aroma of cinnamon crust or apples or burning maple wood, rather, the profound melody that drifted throughout the house, filling every space with its forlorn inflection. It gripped his heart and twisted the organ in his chest as he drifted towards the source, hypnotized with the bittersweetness of what he had hoped the origin of the music was.

As he walked a few more steps into the house and looked in to the family room through the French doors he saw Lori sitting near the fireplace in a Windsor chair, her legs spread to accommodate the large cello that sat between them. Her face was soft as silent tears fell from her lashes and her cheek rested gently against the Scroll.  
Rick smiled, it was beautiful watching her play, a privilege to witness her transcend into what could only be described as an outer body experience. She hadn’t played since Carl’s diagnosis, three years ago.

Her slender fingers guided the bow across the strings with such delicacy, graceful as a surgeon, so calculated and deliberate, yet whimsically confident, she made it look effortless. She opened her eyes as she concluded Mozart—Requiem Mass in D minor.

“Oh, Jesus!” She started at the sight of her husband.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, quietly.

“You startled me that’s all.” She laughed at herself.

“You—you’re playing again.” He asked, walking over to kiss her. “It was beautiful.”

“It’s what sets me free; I’ve neglected my need to feel for too long.” She told him, her voice soft and thoughtful. “I figured this was a good place to start feeling again.” She added, looking to her cello before turning in her chair and placing it neatly upon its stand. Rick watched her closely as she stood and placed a cold hand on his cheek.

“Have you been crying?” She was suddenly alarmed.

“No,” He lied and turned away from her.

“Rick, you can tell me.” She told him, feeling an immense amount of guilt at the thought of her husband feeling ashamed to confess his sorrows to her. Lori knew she had become a different person since Carl’s cancer, it felt inevitable to her. Part of her was angry with Rick for not listening to her when she first saw the signs of leukemia, the other angry with herself for allowing her knowledge of medicine to be second guessed by her husband, a school teacher. When she was informed of her sons son’s disease that Lori swore to no longer be a mother who was afraid to lose her child, but a doctor that would fight vigilantly to save him and by default becoming clinical and distant.

She hated how Rick crumpled into tears while she had to remain rigid and strong. Why was he so _fucking_ special? Did he think that she, Carl’s mother, didn’t want to indulge in her grief?

Rick cleared his throat and rubbed his face with exasperation then tucked his hands into his back pockets while he thought about what to tell her.

“I’m just—I’m tryin’ ta be strong, Lori, like you.” He told her, it wasn’t a lie he just spared her the details. Her eyes softened and she rushed up to him, planting a searing kiss to his lips and holding it there until she felt him exhale and relax against her body.

“I love you, Rick.” She whispered against his lips. “Carl doesn’t need another parent with ice in their veins, he needs you.” Her words came out soft and true, unexpected and surprising to her own ears.  
He felt stunned as he wrapped his arms around her petite figure and kissed her back, maybe harder than necessary.

“Where are the kids?” He asked, gruffly.

“Carl needs to be picked up by 8:00 and Judith is napping.” She informed, feeling excited by the sudden dominance and sex that laced her husband’s voice.

“Is he doing okay, has Carl said anything?” Rick asked, concern burdening the mood.

“Rick, shut up and fuck me, please.” Lori sighed into him as she slowly dropped to her knees and started unbuckling his belt.  
He chuckled nervously, like Carl could come busting through the door at any moment. He and Lori hadn’t had sex outside of the bedroom in years even then they usually had to make quick work of it.

But, his concerns deceased the moment he felt Lori’s warm mouth around his semi-hard cock. She hummed around his massive girth and his jaw fell slack as he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Oh, damn…” He breathed and grabbed on to the mantel of the fireplace. “That’s…thats nice…” He sighed as the head of his penis and her tongue slid together like hot velvet, his fingers twisted into her hair and he began to gently fuck her mouth.

The moments slipped by, his legs started to bow as he felt his balls tighten and ready to release. It had been so long that he prided himself, knowing he was going cum more than his wife’s pretty little mouth could swallow.

Rick looked down at her, sucking hungrily, desperate to please her man, her mouth stretched so wide over his huge cock like she had been waiting all day for him to get home just to get a taste of him.

“Aww, get that mouth ready baby, I’m gonna cum!” He gritted out, legs bowed and arm flexed as he squeezed the mantel for support. He fucked her face, gagging her, drool poured down her chin mixed with white sperm as he cursed and roared through his orgasm.

“Oh, my god!” Lori pulled back, laughing and wiping her chin. “Better?” She teased.

“Not just yet, c’mere!” He yanked her up off the floor, his eyes still dark and primal as he tossed her into the large wingback chair and fell between her legs, spreading them, aggressively and fingering her thin pink panties to the side so that he could see her pretty pink pussy.

“Oh, you’re so caveman today!” She giggled and bit her thumb as she watched him kiss down her lily white thigh.  
He jumped up, suddenly and kissed her mouth, hard. He tasted his own cum on her tongued and sucked on it, loving the sweet and salty residual that lingered on her breath.

“Rick, whoa you’re crazy!” Lori giggled blissfully as he leered with a strange thirst and lowered himself back down between her legs.  
Instantly her mouth agape, her thighs squeezed his head and her slender fingers gripped the arms of the chair as Rick lapped at her folds, gently sucking at her juices and gliding his tongue insider her silky pussy.

“Rick! Yes…Ahh, don’t stop, don’t stop!” She arched her back, his arms hugging her pelvis and to hold her in place as he continued to torture her with slow lapping thrusts of his warm tongue and massaging her clit in slow circles with his thumb.

Her fingers pulled at his curly hair and her toes curled tightly as she was building up to her orgasm.  
Rick looked up at her, his eyes swimming with pride as her chest heaved desperately and her teeth dug into her lower lip, he could taste her sweetness coating his mouth just before—

“God, _Rick!_ ” She bellowed out, pressing herself hard against his stubbled face, grinding into his mouth as she exploded against his taste buds.  
She collapsed as Rick continued a few more kitten licks, cleaning up her sweet pussy juice before she squirmed and placed a hand against his face.

“Okay, okay!” She giggled at the over stimulation. He rested his head on her pelvis and smiled adoring at her.

“I love you.” He whispered and kissed her belly.

“I love you too, Rick.” She smiled, her cheeks still flushed as she caressed his hair.

They stayed there for a long while, basking in the afterglow when Rick’s cell dinged melodically. He harrumphed as he pushed himself up and fished the phone from his pocket.

“Hello…” He answered.

“Hey, it’s Daryl.” The other voice said, gruff and nervous. Rick suddenly felt a strange joyous burst in his gut at the sound of the other man’s voice.

“Hey man, what’s up?” He asked, trying to sound coy.

“Uh—I’m free this weekend and was thinkin’ we could to that…ya know, Broadway thing or somthin’…or wha’ever…” Daryl hinted, feeling stupid. A beautiful and smile crossed Rick’s face, like a school boy who’s dream girl just called him for the first time.

“Absolutely, Lori and I would love that!” Rick agreed as he received a curious but mirthful glare from his wife. “Broadway!” He announced, so that she would understand the direction of the conversation. She immediately lit up and nodded in agreement.

“Great! Cool—Uh—right, okay!” Daryl stammered as though he couldn’t believe Rick said yes. “Merle will be hanin’ out with some other douche bag so I’m free.” He added, excitedly.

“Perfect, we’ll see you Friday night?” Rick confirmed.

“Yeah, Friday night, perfect!” Daryl huffed, like this was the hardest thing he had ever done. They ended the call and Rick turned to Lori, eyes bright and grinning from ear to ear.

“Pick a show. “ He told her. She happily jumped up from the wingback chair and dashed into the downstairs office to log onto her computer. Rick stayed in the Family Room feeling too elated, stupid and boyish at the thought of having time with Daryl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first heterosexual smut, lol. I hope I did it justice.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright! Let me know, do we want more? Any ideas?


End file.
